Boxed In Birthday
by Pen Against Sword
Summary: In which Yuffie screeches, Vincent sighs a lot, Cid does drugs, Cait Sith stocks on blackmail, Cloud plays solitaire, smalltalk is made, soup is feared, and Yuffie and Vincent are stuck in the dark.


Yuffie Kisaragi sighed, shifting irritably.

Vincent Valentine winced. "Please relocate your elbow, Yuffie."

She glared at him, seeing only the glow of his red eyes in the all-consuming darkness. "You can't see me, but I'm glaring," she informed him haughtily. She jerked her elbow purely out of spite.

Vincent grunted. "Yuffie, _your elbow_." He sounded slightly strangled.

"What's your damn point? I know I have an elbow. It's not that hard to figure out. I was born with one you know."

"You are crushing…" he trailed off, trying to get her to see the point.

"Oh," she squeaked. "_OH._" She moved again, taking her elbow to a different area of living space. Vincent let out a little puff of relief.

He had studied their surroundings. Not that there was anything to study…in the dark. Wherever they were…it was small. And metal.

"…"

"…"

"…" She could hear the dot, dot, dot.

"Hey, Vinnie."

"…" Silence.

"OH MY GAWD, VINNIE ARE YOU STILL THERE?"

"Yuffie, there is nowhere else for me to go."

"Oh, right. Well…anyway…"

"…"

"TALK, DAMMIT!"

"What do you wish me to say?"

"Well, most _normal_ people talk about the weather, or Chocobo races, or how damned sexy I am."

Vincent just cleared his throat.

"So…" she said. "This is _all_ your fault."

"What." His voice was flat…Vincent-y.

"If you hadn't followed me, this never would've happened. We wouldn't _be_ here. I'm probably gonna get raped or something. Then, they'll take you and kill you and take your cloak and put your little bodily remains in the walls! That, or put you in the soup. I dunno though, I probably taste _way_ better than you—I mean, I'm nicer and sweeter. Does your personality affect the way you taste? You'd probably be kinda bitter and…mold-flavored. All those years in that coffin. There's only so long you can play as a corpse before you start _tasting_ like one. I mean, you're like…_sixty_. I'd be more fattening I guess—everything sweet is, but I'm also way better-looking than you and food _does_ have to look good too ya know…Oh, _gawd_, they're _probably_ gonna rape _you_ and eat _me_! Oh, I don't _wanna_ be a main course, Vinnie! I'd rather be a side-course or a dessert! Oh, GAWD, what if they—"

"Yuffie." Vincent's velvet voice sliced through her panicked ramblings like a blade.

"Oh. Sorry. But this is your fault."

"…"

"…"

"…I do not see how this predicament can be placed on my shoulders."

"You followed me."

"You were in danger."

"You _blew my cover_!"

"I must reiterate that you were in danger."

"And how would_ you_ know, Dracula?"

"I smelled it."

"Uh. Right. Smelled it."

"…" Vincent shifted positions slightly.

"GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME!"

"What."

"Your hand is…uh…" She suddenly stopped. He realized that the flesh under his skin was too pliable to be normal—…uh…murgle.

"I see. My apologies." He sounded more than slightly uncomfortable to Yuffie's trained Vincent-Voice-Radar. She called it VVR. In her head of course.

She eeped. "Erk…Vinnie. Touching. Other extremities."

"Ah." He moved again. That was better.

"…"

"…"

"So how did you _smell_ the danger, or whatever?"

"I smelled a foreign entity."

"Tch. I coulda handled it."

"I also sensed great power."

"Oh. Well then."

"…"

"This is still your fault."

Vincent did not respond to the obvious baiting on Yuffie's part. This only served to increase her bored shitless state of mind, as sitting in the dark in a…er…pit-cupboard-metal-box-thing was not exactly entertaining to someone of her energies.

"So…Vinnie…"

Vincent gave the mental equivalent of a sigh. "Yes."

"…about that weather lately. What, ah, what do you think of that?"

He raised an eyebrow that she obviously didn't see. "…sunny."

"Right well…win any good Chocobo races lately?"

"No."

"You haven't?"

"I have not been to any Chobobo races as of late."

"Oh…okay. Well, that's _two_ off the list."

List? What "list"?

"So all _that_ leaves is—"

Her sentence ended abruptly as a loud _CLANG_ sounded from outside their prison. Yuffie attempted to scream, but a hand covered her mouth, making it die a horrible, saliva-drowning death in her throat. They were still as stone, listening for any more noise. They didn't breathe.

**MEANWHILE**

"Has anyone seen Yuffie? The candles on her cake are dripping wax everywhere. She left hours ago so we could set up decorations. We're supposed to be singing 'Happy Birthday!' She should be back by _now_," Tifa said, walking into the main room of the Highwind.

Cloud was playing solitaire, Barret was tinkering with his gun arm while Cait Sith watched and made the occasional annoying comment, and Cid was letting the airship run on autopilot, having stopped for a cigarette break. He was peeking at her covertly from the sides of his eyes.

"Ciiiiiiiid…." she said slowly, suspiciously.

He looked up and blinked at her innocently, which was quite weird on his rather rough face. There was definitely not a "Cid" in the word "innocent."

"_Yes_, Tifa?" And _manners_. Where in the name of each and every nine levels of HELL had Cid obtained manners?

"Where's Yuffie? And for _that_ manner, have you seen Vincent? They've both been gone far too long for my taste."

Cid shrugged, his eyes gleaming strangely. "Nope, haven't seen either of 'em."

Tifa glared. Cid grinned. The air grew taut with tension until many people were sure it would snap like a rubber band.

Tifa suddenly darted forward on impulse, catching Cid by surprise and pinning one arm behind his back, twisted awkwardly. Her other arm gripped around his neck. He grunted in discomfort.

"Get the $#& _off_ me!" he yelled, grappling with her.

"Not until you tell me what you've done _this time_!"

Cid snorted and struggled, his precious cigarette falling to the ground to smolder out uselessly. His teeth clenched. "Look, I _had_ to !#$ do _something_! No one _else_ would!"

She still did not release him. Cloud briefly looked up from his card game and shrugged, going back to it nonchalantly. Barret rolled his eyes and went back to his tinkering. Cait Sith had pulled a camera out of nowhere and was recording the whole event with a frightening amount of malignant glee. His eyes glinted with a single word: blackmail.

"Do what? _No one else would do _what?"

"Wouldya let me the &#$ go already? They're _on_ the Highwind! They're &$# safe!" Tifa loosened her grip, stepping away, and he massaged his probably bruised neck. "sheesh, you got one helluva grip girl. Anywho, like I said, they're safe on the Highwind."

"Well then go get them," Tifa said with impatience.

"Hold your Chocobos, missy. I can't do that just yet."

"And _why not_?"

"'Cause it woulda been a waste of my time _and_ my money."

"Money?" Tifa growled. "_What_ did you do, Cid?"

"I was getting pretty tired of those two staring at each other when they thought one wasn't looking and _sighing_ all &# gaga all the &$# time. He's always being so && to her and she's always flirting with him. I had to give 'em both a &$ good kick in the ass or else it woulda went on for-&&-ever."

Barret finally broke in, mystified. "What the & are you blatherin' 'bout, Highwind?"

Cid stopped and stared at all their puzzled faces. He knew he wasn't the _brightest_ crayon in the box, but holy hell.

"Don't you $# _get_ it?" Cid, asked, astonished.

"Uh…no?" Cait Sith said.

"_THEY ARE HEAD OVER HEELS FOR EACH OTHER_!"

"Are you sure?"

"YES. So I made myself a plan. Consider it a sort of gift for the brat from me. See, I got this friend. He's real good with poisons. Called him up, told him I had a job for his crazy ass. Told him what tall, dark, and depressing looked like, told him what the brat looked like, and I told him when and where to be. And then…I set my trap." He chuckled strangely. Cloud frowned, fingering one of his extra knives surreptitiously. He was losing at solitaire.

"I knew Valentine would sense his power and smell him and I knew he would follow the scent to make sure the brat was safe. I told her I saw some foreign material and of course she went to look. So Valentine got there, saw the danger and probably got nailed with a dart, knocked his ass out. The brat probably got one right after that. So my buddy brought them back to me and I handled them and gave him the three-$#-thousand gil I promised him for the job." Cid sounded smug at his own success.

"THREE THOUSAND GIL?" Barrett shouted, standing up and scattering bolts all over Cait Sith. "$#&..." he muttered at the mess and lost parts. Cait snickered.

"Handled them?" Tifa parroted in alarm.

"Uh…what _exactly_ did you do with them, Cid?" Cloud asked, looking up from his game: still losing.

Cid cackled rather disturbingly. "Cargo hold."

"_Where_ in the cargo hold?"

"Storage cubby." Cid took out his cigarette pack, extracting one and lighting it, puffing.

Barret noticed something. "'Ey, Highwind, where the hell'd yo' reg'lar smokes go?" Cid was puffing on a totally different brand of cancer sticks than usual. He normally kept with just one. He _always_ kept with one brand.

Cid snorted, exhaling twin plumes of smoke from his nostrils. "Shera's worrying 'bout my health, so she put me on some these new 'herbal' smokes or some &$#." He shrugged.

They all shared a pointed look. Cid plus herbal smokes equals what the fuck. Tifa and Barret's eyes met. Inching forward, Barret picked just the right moment and then_ lunged_, catching Cid and pinning him around the torso, preventing movement from his arms.

"Hey!" Cid protested, spitting out his cigarette _again_. Tifa came forward and grabbed the pack of smokes from his hand, noticing that the package was more than half empty. He had already gotten into these a long time before they knew. Shit.

Cait Sith giggled maniacally. "Take him _off_ the one-hundred plus poisons in his system daily and he goes crazy _then_! What a looney!"

Cid bared his nicotine-stained teeth at the electronic feline and bucked in Barret's arms. "What's the big idea?" Cid cried.

"Shera migh' be worried 'bout yo' health, Highwind, but we're worried 'bout yo' _mind_."

Cid looked totally bewildered. "What are you talking about? My mind is in perfect condition!"

"Denial!" sang Cait Sith in a high, grating falsetto. He pranced around on his mog, reciting, "more than just a river in Egypt!"

"Now," said Tifa firmly. "You will take us to where they are in the cargo hold."

Cid's lips thinned and he shook his head belligerently.

"Well then. Barret?"

Barrett nodded in assent and slung Cid straight over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes. However, he was slightly more animate than a sack of potatoes. He struggled and kicked, whereas potatoes probably would have just sighed and bemoaned their pitiful fate. Stupid, cynical potatoes.

"The less you struggle, the faster and easier this will go," Tifa offered. Cid still refused to give in, so Barret hefted him to the cargo hold. He held the little pilot strongly, making an awful racket as he and Tifa searched the hold.

**MEANWHILE (again)  
**

Yuffie suddenly choked behind Vincent's hand, overcome with an extreme bout of nausea. She could feel the bile rising in her throat and she bit it back unpleasantly.

"Yuffie." Vincent sounded slightly worried. "Don't even _think_ about it."

"U-urrrrgh…"

Vincent, not in the particular frame of mind to remain cheerful after being vomited on, moved his human hand down to her belly and placed it there, hoping to calm her roiling insides. She pressed his hand into her abdominal muscles and he could feel her stomach burbling.

"Ohhhhhh…the can-can dancers are having a siesta with the Mexican-hat-men in my intestines…ooohhhhh…" Yuffie moaned piteously.

"Breathe deeply, Yuffie," Vincent soothed, rippling his fingers against her heaving belly.

Yuffie's current thought-mantra was _don'tpukeonvinniedon'tpukeonvinnie_… Vincent could feel her warm skin through her shirt.

"Yuffie, how long have you felt nauseous?"

"The whole time we've been here, except it just got really bad." He nodded, then realized she wouldn't be able to see him.

"It's getting better now," Yuffie finally announced. Neither of them moved. "Vinnie, I don't feel sick anymore."

"Yes."

"Which means you can move your hands if you want."

"Yes."

Silence again.  
"Oh. Well. Ah. So we talked about the weather, Chocobo races and so now the only thing left to talk about is…"

She seemed to be waiting on Vincent to supply the answer. He had absolutely nothing to offer, being that he had no idea what she was talking about.

"…How sexy I am!"

He sighed.

"…You don't think I'm sexy?" She pouted girlishly, which had no affect on the man because he couldn't see it (not that it had any affect when he _could_ see it).

"_YOU DON'T THINK I'M SEXY_!" she wailed, the pitch of her voice vibrating his ear-drums. He had to say _something_ to stop the noise. He grimaced at what he was about to do.

"Yes, Yuffie…I think you…are…"

"You think I'm…?" she prompted.

"…" He hesitated.

"…well?"

Sigh. "Sexy."

"YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!"

"Yuffie, please refrain from yelling. It brings pain."

"Oh, sorry."

"…" Dot, dot, dot.

"So you really think I'm sexy?"

"Yuffie—"

Vincent was saved from answering by another loud, metallic crash that reverberated outside their box-hole-thing—whatever it was. Yuffie immediately fell silent this time, quivering in his arms—er…arm. She buried her head in the folds of his cloak, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like "Idon'twannaberapesoupIdon'tWANNAberapesoup!"

There were several more crashes and Yuffie jumped with each one, shaking Vincent in the process. Finally, there was silence. They waited, not breathing and tense. Nothing more met their ears.

"Uh, Yuffie…" Vincent said. "You are gouging my arm." Yuffie released him.

"This is the crummiest birthday ever," she suddenly proclaimed. "I mean, I'm eighteen today. It was bad enough that Red couldn't make it 'cause he caught some kinda ancient cat flu or whatever, but _now_ I'm stuck in a box-hole-thing-whatever-this-is with you, waiting to be _raped_ and made into _soup_ because I taste _so damn good_." She stopped, realizing what she had said.

Vincent's voice had gone slightly cold. "I am sorry that you have to be stuck in here with me."

"Oh NO! Not what I meant! Nonononononoooooooooo!"

"It is all right, Yuffie. I am sorry your birthday has turned out so horribly."

"No, _I'm_ sorry, Vinnie! I didn't mean it like that! Besides the rape and the soup and the banging and the fear and the small spaces and the possibility of soon suffocation and the dark, I'm really enjoying this birthday."

Vincent lifted an eyebrow in the dark. "…how?"

Quietly, she said, "'Cause I get to spend it all tangled up with you."

At Vincent's rather abrupt choking sounds, Yuffie thought she had maybe taken it a step too far. She almost couldn't bring herself to care anymore, as she was tired of tiptoeing around the pseudo-vampire. She patted his leg consolingly as he regained air.

There was a sudden volley of more clangs and then they were blinded by light. Yuffie tumbled out of her tangle with Vincent, out of their box-hole-thing-whatever-it-was, ass over teakettle, and onto the floor. She was nauseous again. She groaned.

"Yuffie! Vincent!" Tifa's voice yelled. Yuffie gurgled pathetically. Tifa leaned down and slapped something onto Yuffie's arm. "Seasickness patch. Maybe it'll work in the air."

Vincent clambered out of the box-hole-thing-whatever-it-was (Yuffie realized belatedly that she would have to stop referring to it like that in her mind, as it was actually a storage cubby in the Highwind) with much more grace than Yuffie had. The gracefulness of his exit seemed to mock Yuffie's clumsy escape. The escape cowered at the power of the exit.

"You mean I'm _not_ going to be rape-soup?"

"Uh…" Tifa said. "No?"

"What the hell happened?" Yuffie demanded.

Cait Sith jumped in eagerly, having followed them with the camera. "Ol' chimney-stack over here got ahold of some drugs, smoked 'em, then paid a hit man to drug you and Vince and lock you in a closet!" He guffawed.

Yuffie had _no _idea what was going on, so she did what came naturally, born of instinct:

She kicked Cid's ass.

**LATER**

"Haaaaaaaaappy birthdaaaaaaay, dear Yuffieeeeeeeeeeeeee, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!"

"Blow out the candles!" shrieked Cait, erupting into carnival music.

Yuffie took a deep breath, puffed out her cheeks, and then stopped, deflating. They all looked at the cake, which they had been too excited to notice earlier.

All the candles had melted, leaving the cake coated with wax. Yuffie poked it, fearing it would bite her.

Tifa stared. "Er…ON TO PRESENTS THEN."

Barret had gotten her polish for the Conformer, Cloud had gotten her a book on rare materia, Tifa had gotten her bright orange socks, Cait Sith had given her a box that exploded with confetti, and Cid had returned the Shiva summon that he had somehow stolen straight from her room just to prove that he was able to (she stuck out her tongue at him).

"Wow, thanks so—"

"What did _you_ get Yuffie, Vincent?" broke in Tifa, a strange glint in her eye.

Vincent blinked slowly, then surprised everyone by walking forward and leaning in toward Yuffie conspiratorially. She leaned in too, eager for another gift.

Everyone gasped in surprise as Vincent closed his eyes and got rid of the remaining distance between him and Yuffie, pressing his lips to her smaller ones in a chaste kiss.

It was the sweetest thing she had ever experienced, she knew, as her breath fizzled out and her brain liquefied and ran out her ear canals. She sighed in content against his mouth.

They broke apart suddenly at the sound of stupio applause. _Real_ studio applause. Cait Sith was staring at them, playing it. Tifa was whistling and clapping. Barret's mouth had dropped open and Cid muttered, "'bout $#&# time…" Cloud shrugged: he was losing at solitaire still.

Yuffie hugged Vincent like a teddy bear (a life-size, slightly vampire-ish, depressing, demonic teddy bear) and beamed blindingly.

Vincent leaned back and looked at her.

"Happy birthday, Yuffie."

_Fin_

A/N: EDIT: Dammit, I had to go back and change some stuff cause spell-check was automatically changing "materia" to "material". Stupid spell-check.

This one-shot is so full of screeching on the parts of Cait Sith, Yuffie, and Tifa. Eesh.

I'm SO SORRY. The fluffbunnies were circling me, chanting "DO IT! DO IT!" like some scary cult or something. I hope the humor helped lessen so much of the SHAMELESS FLUFF! (don't kill me, PLEASE.)


End file.
